


Irondad

by Narsil5



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gen, IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad, Short, Sickfic, but eh, like really short, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20756039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narsil5/pseuds/Narsil5





	Irondad

Inviting a kid over for a sleep over is not a thing one usually does in one’s forties, but at the point where one had given the kid a suit, it was not entirely ridiculous.Of course, when the kid shows up in said suit, you kind of have to ask a few questions. Namely: “Kid, what the hell.” 

“Hello to you too, Mr. Stark.” Peter answered, and Tony could tell he was smiling under the mask. “I brought snacks!” 

“Is there a reason you’re wearing the suit?” Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“Nooooo.” said Peter, ducking inside. “None whatsoever. Zero. Zip. Nada.” 

Tony sighed and pulled off the mask. “Kid! What the-” 

His hair was stuck to his forehead, which wasn’t odd considering his mask was just removed, but Peter had a bright red nose and dark circles under his eyes. He grinned sheepishly. “Ok, so maybe it’s kinda something.” 

“Kid,” Tony inhaled deeply. “What in the name of all that is holy is wrong?” 

“It’s just a cold, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, wiping his nose. “Nothing to worry about! I’m good!” 

“No, you’re not,” Tony steered him inside by the shoulders. He led them into the living room and flopped dramatically onto the couch, taking Peter down with him. 

“Uh, Mr. Stark?” Peter tried to shift to the left so that Tony had more room. “I’m. . .kinda stuck?” 

Tony pulled him back. “Get used to it, Underoos.” He flipped the TV on. “What d’you wanna watch?” 

“I--Star Trek maybe?” 

“I thought you were a Star Wars kid,” Tony said as he searched up one of the movies. 

“I’m both,” Peter wiped his nose again. Tony passed him a tissue box with his free hand. “T-thanks. Anyway, ‘s dumb that the fandoms fight. Different kinds of plots. Completely different.” 

“Fandoms?” Tony blinked. On a keypad on the arm of the couch he typed Get Drinks, and two ginger ales rose from the cupholders. He passed one to Peter and cracked his own open. 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter looked appalled as he sipped his soda. How he managed to talk at the same time was beyond Tony. “How do you not know what a fandom is?” 

“I’m old, leave me alone.” He grumped, starting the movie. 

“Someday,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Someday, Mr. Stark, I am going to teach you all the proper vocabulary.” 

“You had better not run into the lab yelling ‘Parkour’ and ‘Yeet’ again, Peter, or I swear I’ll ground you for a month.” 

“You’ll ground me?” Peter laughed. “What are you, my dad? IT'S A GOOD ROBOT-” 

That last bit was yelled at the screen when one of the production company logos came on, but Tony ignored it. “Sure, why not.” 

Peter choked on his drink. It was Tony’s turn to laugh. 

At some point during the movie, Peter fell asleep. Apparently, ginger ale wasn’t caffeinated. He was curled up in a blanket he had dragged off the back of the couch, head tilted so that it was on Tony’s shoulder. Tony was afraid to move, so he sat through the entirety of the movie like that. After all the credits had rolled, he gently shrugged his shoulders. “Alright, Spider-boy,” He said gently. “Time for bed.” 

“’S not even eleven yet,” protested the kid with a yawn. He uncurled himself and stretched, blanket falling off onto the floor. 

“Yeah, but you’re sick,” Tony pointed out. 

“No, I’m noooot.” Peter said just before he broke into a coughing fit. “Not--” a cough. “--Sick--” another. “--At all, Mr. Stark.” None of this stopped Tony from steering him into a guest room. “I’m good, I can sleep on the couch--” 

“Kid,” Tony said in exasperation. “If you think I'm going to let you sleep on the couch sick, you’re wrong. Heck, if you think I’m letting you sleep on the couch at all, you’re wrong. You get a room.” 

“Thanks,” Peter rolled into bed and wriggled under the blankets. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Stark.” 

“No problem, kid.” He pulled the sheets up so that they covered the teen’s shoulders, then walked out of the room. “See you in the morning for breakfast.”


End file.
